@Wry_Wyvern
Josh is the sliver of a crescent moon in the sky and the scent of a cool autumn night. He's sweatshirts and jeans year-round, soft notes on a guitar, a confession whispered for no one to hear. He's messy hair, a messy notebook, messy thoughts. He's being awake alone at two a.m.; he's dark circles under bright, inspired eyes. Josh is the quiet intensity of misty rain, the gentle erosion that moves mountains. He's hanging around book stores late at night. He's the childlike joy of having a secret, the weariness of loss. Josh is the immortal, the ultimatum, the final broken notes of a song that was never supposed to end.